


Accidents

by ScaryScarecrows



Series: Gaslights [8]
Category: Batman: Gotham by Gaslight (2018)
Genre: Accidents, Both comedic and really really horrible, Gen, Graphic death of unnamed child, Starts out light, Takes a hard turn into darkness halfway through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-07 13:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14081634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScaryScarecrows/pseuds/ScaryScarecrows
Summary: Dove is just wondering if she should see Sionis (ugh, but he’s creepy and she hates him) or get a snack (the chestnut cart is a street over…one little street…) when there’s a blur of red and brown followed by a, “Holy shit, I’m saved, Jesus really does love me.”





	Accidents

**Author's Note:**

> Takes a HARD turn into darkness halfway through, and that wasn’t my intention, but oh well. Mind for blood and unsafe factory conditions.

Dove is just wondering if she should see Sionis (ugh, but he’s creepy and she hates him) or get a snack (the chestnut cart is a street over…one little street…) when there’s a blur of red and brown followed by a, “Holy shit, I’m saved, Jesus really does love me.”

What?

The red and brown blur is Jason, who is now hiding behind her skirts. Great. He’s… _done something._

_“Petit rouge-”*_

“Okay so I might’a fucked up a little teeny tiny bit but I _swear_ it was an accident so you gotta hide me please-please-please-”

“What did you do?”

“Gave Dickie a haircut.”

Sionis can go hang-she’s going home and getting a drink.

“Jason…”

“He asked! My hand slipped!”

She twists around in time to see him peering out into the crowds, presumably searching for his executioner-er, older brother. He looks somewhat sorry-pale and tense, at least-but…well…Dick accidentally tackled him (long story) a few weeks ago and he’s the type to hold a grudge.

“Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“He’s gonna _kill_ me.” Maim, maybe. “Pleeeeease, you gotta help me out here.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You don’t want me to die, do ya? Me, the ray of sunshine? The favorite child?”

“My favorite child is Penguin’s girl-shaped umbrella stand.”

“…the favorite alive child?”

This kid needs to find a theatre troupe. Seriously, if one passes through town, they need to take him.

She rubs her nose to hide the fact that she’s about to laugh and cranes to see if she can spot Dick anywhere. She can’t, but that means nothing-that boy’s half-monkey, he has to be, and he could be bouncing along on the sun shades the shopkeepers have set up today. Or on the roofs.

This is Cobblepot’s fault. He went and offered him a job as a part-time snitch and things snowballed.

“I’ll do an-yyyy-thing,” Jason’s begging, all but on his knees. “I sweeeeearr. Steal, lie, murder, be Penguin’s new umbrella stand, whatever. Just _please-_ ”

There’s a snarl from behind them and Jason tenses to bolt. She grabs him by the collar and turns to face…oh.

Oh dear.

It’s, ah, it. It starts well. Nice and even, no straggling locks in the back. But the bangs…well…

She’s thinking Jason really didn’t mean to. Nobody gets that kind of chunk cut out on purpose. No, that truly was an accident.

“Bury me next to my mother.”

“Don’t be a goose.”

Dick’s clearly been running-he’s red and panting and his hat is clutched in his hand. He jams it on his head and stalks forward and, really, to be fair, in ten years that might be scary. Maybe. A little bit.

“I need to borrow my brother,” he grinds out when he reaches them. Dove sighs.

“No. Come on, walk with me.”

Dick scowls and jabs a finger in Jason’s direction.

“We duel on the morrow.”

They both need to find a theatre troupe.

“Boys…”

“I told ya! My hand slipped!”

“Look at what he did to me!” Dick gestures to the, ah, the mishap. “I’ll look like this ‘til I’m _old!_ ”

“It’ll grow back in a week or two. Come on.”

“Maybe you can pity your way into food, huh?”

“Don’t help.” Dick makes a strange noise that sounds like a cross between a death rattle and a roar of rage. Jason looks longingly towards a nearby alley. “You boys eaten anything today?”

“Jason’s getting a knuckle sandwich later.”

“No, that’s your order-”

If she ever, somehow, ends up with kids of her own, she wants _a_ kid, and preferably a daughter. Girls are better than this. They poison you, not brawl in the street.

“No.”

* * *

They end up tagging along to the mill. She’d rather them not, but technically they can go where they like. Maybe it’s better this way-the wander in here alone and they might get…recruited.

This isn’t a good place for kids. Not that it matters-most of Roman Sionis’s work force is twelve and under. Easy to train, easy to replace, and cheap. The labor laws are supposed to look after them, but nobody enforces them. ‘Specially not when it’s the street kids getting pulled in. They’re out of the way, and it’s an honest living.

Dove hates coming down here.

Roman Sionis is a big man, with nice suits and rough knuckles. But what catches everyone’s attention is the mask he wears. He was burned, badly, during the War and light hurts him. At least, that’s his claim. Dove suspects he just likes the unease the thing causes. There’s rumors that it’s a real skull, and she doubts those, but it’s lifelike enough all the same.

The black teeth grin down at them now and she feels Dick try to pull Jason behind him.

“And who are these?”

“Couple’a errand boys, they’re with me today.” _Not for you._ “Mister Cobblepot would like you to be aware that lateness is not tolerated in his organization, Mister Sionis.”

Silence. Somewhere on the floor below, there’s an agonized scream and the horrible grinding of a machine. Sionis doesn’t even turn around.

“You can tell _Mister_ Cobblepot to come down here and talk to me in person next time, rather than playing telegram.” He seems to grow taller, somehow. “I don’t appreciate being treat-”

**_SSSSHHHRRRIIIIEEEEK!_ **

That sounds bad.

It must be, at least a little-Sionis turns around now and goes to his office window. A second later, he opens it and roars, “What’s going on down there?”

Now, with the window open, the screaming is a _lot_ louder. She’s about to demand that he either go down there and help or finish up here when Dick and Jason decide they want to get involved and _bolt_ , pounding downstairs and emerging a few seconds later on the work floor.

Shit-oh. Oh, dear God.

The problem is…one of the machines. She’s not sure what it does, but it goes round and round at a terrible speed, and it’s…there’s a little girl, nine, ten, no older than Jason. She’s caught in it and it keeps slamming her against the cement** and she’s still _screaming._

And then the screaming stops, but the machine’s still going, or trying to, and underneath the horribly whirring and grinding she can hear the snapping of bones. The floor is red, now, and there’s something squishy that keeps getting spread all over the place and she’s going to be sick-

Dick and Jason have come to a stop at the edge of the crowd. Somebody finally manages to get the machine shut down and…God, that little girl’s barely even…her skirt. That’s all. That’s what got her caught and that’s all that’s recognizable anymore.

“Get that cleaned up and get back to work!”

Dick’s mouth is opening and Dove’s finally close enough to grab him.

_“Don’t.”_

“But-”

“We’re leaving. Don’t antagonize him.”

She doubts Sionis even realizes they’ve gone-he’s still shouting from his office when the door finally shuts behind them. Jason, for once, is silent, pale and shaking and pressed tightly against Dick’s side.

“What is that place?”

“Now you know why I said you don’t wanna come.” She rubs her nose and tries and fails to unhear the screaming and the snapping. “You don’t go in there. You don’t come back here. Is that clear?” Frantic nodding from the both of them. “Roman Sionis used to be in charge of Gotham until Penguin arrived. Now he makes smuggling boxes at that mill.”

Silence. Dick’s clutching Jason like a doll and Jason’s not even pretending to complain. Outside, the sun’s setting and Dove sees nightmares on the horizon.

“Penguin’s visiting his mother tonight,” she says on a whim. “You boys can stay in the guest room, he won’t mind.”

“You’re sure-”

“Yeah. Just don’t make a mess or vanish anything, huh?”

Olga raises an eyebrow when she herds them inside, but Dove just reminds her that she had to go see Sionis today and the eyebrow goes back down, only to be replaced with a grimace.

“What happened?”

“Accident with one of the machines. It…she just kept hitting the floor and it wouldn’t stop going around.”

“They saw?”

“Everything.”

And then the woman’s gone, moving upstairs with a silence that Dove always forgets she’s capable of. The boys will probably end tonight petrified that she’ll put them into the oven, but at least they’ll be warm.

And, more importantly, off the streets and out of range of Sionis’ ever-seeking fingers.

THE END

*‘Small/little red’.

**Actually happened (probably more than once). The accounts ain’t pretty.


End file.
